Twisted Little Messages
by Lira is a Girl's Name
Summary: Conrad has been sending Worth messages on his phone for a long time, out of the vain hope Worth will cease his jerk replies and maybe even come for coffee. He finds that all he needs to do to catch Worth's attention is change it up a little. Conworth.


AN: This was written at the suggestion of my darling friend Ven, who is made of awesome. Somehow we were joking about sexting and whether or not Conrad would ever have the balls to do this and the fact that in my personal headcanon, Worth actually does have a phone capable of text messages and Conrad has already been sending him some. So I went with it. Yet another thing that might have been a little crack, but which I wrote with utmost seriousness. As always, Hanna is Not a Boy's Name is the property of the lovely Tessa Stone, and no insult is meant nor is any profit being made.

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TWISTED LITTLE MESSAGES

-by: Lira-

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Conrad was the sort of person who found comfort in routine, and even after being welcomed to his afterlife, he felt a need to keep his habits organized. Somehow this had translated into a morning routine – or nightly routine, if one was being picky – that included a text message to Worth. Conrad always asked more or less the same thing, and Worth always replied with some debasing remark. In a way this made it harder to type out a message that was mostly cheerful, knowing that the response would always be cruelty. But at the same time it was reassuring, knowing that Worth would always be a dick.

Conrad knew that Worth would always be the biggest jackass he knew, and therefore he should have given up the hope that he'd find a way to ask Worth for coffee that would be received favorably. He should have subjugated whatever insane part of him actually wanted to spend some time with Worth in Conrad's favorite coffee shop. Oh, he definitely should have stopped rising to the bait when Worth offered himself as food in order to transcend their fighting to fucking. That last part was the worst, that when Conrad was hungry Worth looked the most appetizing, more so than any other living person, and that he could slip and do it again.

Conrad knew that he shouldn't want to do it again just then, sitting up in his bed, fingers tracing the small buttons on his phone in preparation to message Worth.

Conrad had taken to changing up his message, trying to be creative and trying to find a temptation for Worth. But lying amidst cool sheets thinking about Worth's blood hot on his tongue as it ran down his throat, Conrad found it hard to be cheerful or objective. He found it easier to remove one hand from the phone, sliding his hand down the mattress to the juncture of his legs. Conrad realized what he was doing and abruptly stopped, trying to figure out how he'd let himself go from thinking about Worth to trying to touch himself.

It was surely all sorts of a bad idea, but as Conrad returned both hands to the keys, he figured he could give Worth a different sort of just-waking-up message. Conrad had to swallow tightly, even trying to find the words for it, had to tell himself that Worth already made fun of him every way Worth knew how and it wouldn't actually be giving Worth any more ammunition. If Worth found it funny, well, Worth found all of Conrad's messages funny. It was worth it for a change of pace.

'Being dead seems to remove the problem of morning wood,' Conrad typed out, with fingers that trembled just slightly. 'But it also makes it such a bother getting hard when you want to jerk off upon waking.'

It was nerve-wracking for Conrad, even just pressing send after writing it. It wasn't even a lie. He had to have blood in him, now, if he wanted to masturbate or have sex. It might have been part of why feeding on Worth always ended in them having sex, because it was the one time it was just so easy for Conrad to get it up and go for it. He almost never masturbated any more; Worth was his one release.

And yet after the message went through Conrad found himself rolling over in the bed, scooting backwards up against the pillows and the headboard. He slid his underwear out of the way and edged his knees apart, looking down at himself with all the objectivity he could muster. Did the thought of Worth knowing he was thinking about masturbating make him want to do it? The thought of Worth in his office with his stupid fur-lined coat, sitting back in his chair and looking down at the message and – what? What would Worth do? Conrad wrapped his hand around himself and thought about it.

Before he could do anything, though, his phone buzzed quietly from where it was lying against the pillow. Conrad grabbed it quickly but paused before opening the message, now unsure if he even wanted to know. After a long moment of hesitation, he clicked it open.

'Are you jerking off to thoughts about me, you fucking fairy, or is this some kinda stupid art fag joke?'

Clearly Worth had caught his meaning, but of course Worth still had to try and make fun of Conrad. Conrad did have to snort a little in amusement that Worth would have to ask him if he meant it. Conrad still didn't like the idea of opening himself up to Worth's full ridicule, but if he didn't mean it would he really still end up half-naked in Worth's office so much, grasping for Worth's cock with fingers speckled in blood?

'Are you getting off thinking about it,' Conrad typed, 'or did you just want to call me a fag?'

Conrad didn't even need an answer, really, because he found that he was. Even with the low percentage of fresh blood in his system, he was now getting hard, and if he was honest it was precisely because Worth knew that he was doing this. His fingers wrapped tighter around himself, stroked once, and then his phone buzzed for a second time.

Conrad stopped immediately, and that time he popped open the message without a moment's hesitation.

'Tell me you're thinking about my dick when you touch yourself.'

Conrad laughed, softly, but it was almost more like a moan. He did as Worth demanded without meaning to, imagining the thick length jutting from a thatch of blonde curls as soon as he read the word "dick" in the message. His hand convulsed on his cock, while the other hand holding the phone almost dropped it into Conrad's lap. By that point he was so hard it fairly hurt.

'I'd rather think about your mouth,' Conrad typed, one-handed, painfully slowly because he could barely move his fingers to press the correct keys. 'I know you're salivating thinking about me doing this, might as well put it to use.'

By that point it was starting to be fun to do it, to type the messages, even if the physical action was difficult for Conrad. He would never be able to say these things to Worth with his own vocal cords, not without dying of mortification in the process. But if he could hide behind the screen of his phone, Conrad could express the dirty things that he could barely even think any other way.

When the next message came Conrad opened it without even ceasing the motion of his hand, the shifts of his fingers up and down his length slow and rhythmic and coaxing.

'You'd like that, you faggot, but you'd like it better if I was shoving my dick into you.'

'Touching yourself to thoughts of me isn't good enough?' Conrad typed. 'Are you wishing you were with me instead already?'

Conrad told himself that he didn't want Worth to be there, didn't want to ruin the fantasy. As things were he could imagine Worth's face however he liked, could pretend that Worth was simply consumed with want and could blot out any of the mocking and the taunting that usually occurred. He forced himself to keep the motion of his hand leisurely, needing to draw out this surreal situation where Worth only wanted Conrad and he didn't have to worry about anything else.

The next message came, reading, 'Is that an invitation or will you beg for me to come fuck you?'

Conrad bit his lip, hand twisting over the head of his cock, needing to pause a moment before he could reply. 'Why should I beg when I know you're so desperate? Ask nicely and I'll think about bending over.'

It really didn't help that Conrad could imagine doing it, could imagine Worth's body pressed up against his, pressing into him. It didn't help that he knew that he would find it nice not to have to bite Worth in order to get to that position, to see what it would be like to get fucked while losing control in passion and not just in rage. Conrad didn't like thinking about how idealistic he really was, about how he still wanted to someday have nice, consensual sex like he was in love with the person. Yeah, he knew that was never happening with Worth, didn't think he even wanted it to happen with someone as vile as the doctor.

Conrad's phone buzzed, and he flitted back to the fantasy, reading the words on the screen. 'Why should I ask when I know I could just drive you against a wall and plow into you, and you wouldn't even say no?'

'You think you're so hard to resist. Try grabbing your cock harder, because at this rate your hand is all you're going to know.'

It was hard to think the last part, because it echoed what Conrad had been worrying about. His hand was a better lover than Worth, most of the time. He knew Worth didn't care so much for Conrad's pleasure, just wanted someone to cut into him while his dick pulsed and Conrad fit the bill. Conrad hated that he wished he was more than a fucking sex toy.

'You want me to ask to fuck you?' the next message read. 'You're jerking off for me and you want me to think you want to get fucked? What sort of faggot trick is this?'

Conrad laughed that Worth still thought it was a joke, the sound a wheeze, a moan, when it came out. He was so close to coming already and Worth couldn't even give him another sexy line, had to act like he didn't know that of course Conrad wanted to fuck, that was how he'd goaded himself into this ridiculous exercise in the first place. Conrad couldn't think well enough to explain.

'Maybe if you ever fuck me well enough, I'll tell you every last thing you wanted to hear,' Conrad typed, feeling vindictive.

The next message came faster than Conrad was expecting. 'Maybe if you open your fucking door.'

Conrad's head jerked up from looking at his phone, his hand stilling where it was wrapped around his cock. It could just be Worth fucking with him still, and yet Conrad was listening perfectly carefully when he could hear the door to his condo thump into the wall with a deafening crash. At that point his hand tightened almost painfully, the happy illusion of the messages on the screen shattering to pieces in the face of the possibility – no, probability – that Worth was really there.

Conrad quickly grabbed up the blankets and pulled them over himself, the mortification he'd briefly gotten rid of washing over him. He could hear the loud footsteps bringing Worth into his home, before the door to his room was thrust open just as boldly. Worth's stupid coat was hanging halfway off of him, and there was a manic light visible in the man's eyes. Conrad found that he was somewhere between enthralled and enraged that Worth had actually broken into his home.

"If Aye fuck yeh inter th' mattress, will tha' be well enough?" Worth asked, spitting the words out as if he were firing bullets.

Conrad had his hands fisted in the sheets, trying to reconcile everything that was happening, trying to accept that he really had sent those messages to Worth and Worth really had received them. Before it really had been a fantasy, like he was having the conversation with Worth in his head and he was the only one who knew about it. But now Worth was here, challenging Conrad's reality by replying to his dirty assertions out loud.

"What did you want to hear?" Conrad asked dimly, like the words were coming from a body that was far away, and not his own.

Worth didn't answer. He shrugged the rest of the way out of his jacket and threw it on Conrad's floor, hands going for the fly of his pants immediately after that. Somehow Worth managed getting his dick out of his pants while getting across the room, crawling onto Conrad's bed so quickly it was almost graceful.

"Shoes off the furniture!" Conrad exclaimed, before he could stop himself.

"Shut up," Worth told him, even as Conrad continued to cringe for his clean sheets.

Worth ripped the sheets away so that Conrad pressed his legs together in response, needing this to stop even though a rather large part of him wanted it to continue. It was okay if things were out of control when they were fucking up against a wall in Worth's office. But Conrad was lying on his own bed and couldn't quite handle having control wrested from him when he was in his one safe place.

"You weren't supposed to come here," Conrad told Worth, even as the man placed one hand on Conrad's knee.

"Then why th' fuck were yeh sendin' those fuckin' dirty messages?" Worth asked, impatiently. "Tha' was yer doin', right?"

"I... Ah..." Conrad stumbled, looking away for a second. "I just wanted you to come for coffee, just once."

"Yeh weren't offerin' coffee," Worth said bluntly.

"Well, no!" Conrad exclaimed, trying to keep his legs shut as Worth pried them apart. Then, softly, "There are a lot of things I'm not doing, because they're never going to happen."

Conrad himself didn't know if he just meant that he was a vampire now, and technically dead, and there were so many life experiences he wasn't going to have... Or if he actually did mean that he wanted more to a relationship than fucking and blood. He hadn't meant to ever tell Worth that, not Worth, not when Worth could use it against him forever.

"Yeh still wan' me ter ask nicely?" Worth asked, sounding exasperated. "Fuck, Connie, Aye didn' think dirty things suited yeh, but it's fuckin' hot ter think of yeh doin' it. Yer really not gunna follow through on all uv yer nasty, filthy thoughts?"

Conrad didn't really think that was asking nicely, but... It kind of gave him an absurd warm feeling inside to think that his little messages had gotten Worth any sort of hot and bothered, so that Worth would stomp into his condo and demand that they fuck. He wondered then why he was even resisting it.

"Fine," Conrad said. "But you'd better make it good."

Conrad didn't think too much that Worth had his own fucking lube, or that Worth jammed two slick fingers into him that fucking fast as soon as Conrad spread his legs in acceptance. He didn't want to think about feeling like such a fucking girl, spread out in his bed like a virgin on her wedding night. He didn't have to once Worth started, once the fingers scissoring inside of him were replaced by Worth's thick cock.

Worth did as he promised, or at least did his damned best. Conrad had to reach his arms behind himself and grab onto the wrought iron bed frame, fingers curling tight around the metal so that Worth wouldn't slam him right into it. Worth changed the angle of his thrusts so that he was slamming Conrad down, driving his cock in again and again and again. Conrad suspected that Worth didn't know he was doing it, but the positioning caused Worth to press against that sweet spot over and over, so that Conrad's fingers convulsed and he bit his lip hard.

And Worth even tried to kiss him, although Conrad realized what Worth was doing. As soon as Conrad tried to kiss back Worth shoved in harder than before, so that Conrad bit down instead. And Conrad could taste the blood then but he didn't mind, because they were still going and he'd already been so close that he was surprised he hadn't come already, hadn't exploded simply from the thought. He could feel Worth gasp against his mouth, clearly from the pain of Conrad's little bite, and Conrad could feel Worth convulsing inside of him.

It still took Conrad a second to realize that Worth had come first, that Worth was still pulsing and spilling his seed within Conrad. And Conrad had promised to tell Worth every last thing he wanted to hear, but he'd already told Worth more than he had ever planned to. Worth's hand was around him before Conrad realized it, and he couldn't tell if it was a thoughtful gesture or something else because the stimulation of a few quick strokes was already too much. Conrad came over Worth's hand, still clutching the bed frame and clenching his teeth so tight it hurt.

Worth pulled out then, and sat up, and Conrad looked up into the other man's face. Worth's expression was more calculating than Conrad thought it had any right to be after sex, and he wasn't yet thinking coherently enough to be fully worried. Worth sat back on his heels and his expression started to shift into a smug look instead.

"So wot yeh were sayin'," Worth began, with that horrible shit-eating grin. "Is tha' all them lil' messages abou' goin' fer coffee in yer faggy little coffee shop, all them messages were really yer way of sayin' yeh wanted ter get fucked inter a mattress until yer eyes fairly rolled up inter yer head."

That wasn't entirely true, but Conrad didn't have any way of denying it. Agreeing was safer than pointing out that he wanted to be able to have a civil conversation over coffee with Worth, but that he also liked the idea of fucking in a location that was actually comfortable.

"Fuck, Connie," Worth continued. "All yeh had ter do was ask."

Conrad found that hard to believe, and was disconcerted to hear Worth say anything that sounded so /nice./ He made a little "hmph" sound, and brought his arms down from the bed frame to cross over his chest. He leveled Worth with his best flat, disbelieving stare, but Worth only laughed at him.

"'Course now yer gunna want ter go drink yer faggy coffee in yer faggy coffee shop, Aye know," Worth said. "Yer gayer than Christmas."

Worth swung his legs off the bed, standing up and refastening his trousers after tucking himself back inside. Worth was so calm that it again shocked Conrad into not saying anything, and Worth was halfway out the door before Conrad's thoughts began to even halfway approach sense.

"Th' nex' time yeh feel like bein' adventurous," Worth said, from the doorway. "Jes' fuckin' tell me ter come screw yer ass, so Aye doan' nearly bust a nut in my pants from yer twisted little messages."

The entire sentence was said so condescendingly that Conrad's hackles came right up, but Worth strode out before he could shout anything after the infuriating man. It was only after Worth was gone that it occurred to Conrad that Worth had all but admitted how bothered Conrad – Conrad! – had managed to make him.

It was a power Conrad hadn't expected to ever wield, and it felt damn nice to know that he could affect the bastard back if he really tried.


End file.
